The luxury of moving is that I am finding more creative ways to occupy the kiddos. From letting them "help" me pack (which involves giving them boxes for them to play with while I do the real thing) to rolling out old wrapping paper on the floor so they can slip, slide or color on it, I'm finding that packing up a house is tricky but is ripe with many silly opportunities for play.
Of course, with the full heat of summer beating down on us, I feel trapped in the house with three energetic boys and haunted by an unending list of to dos. I would much rather rest, put my feet up and cool off. As I listen to the sound of a neglected tv playing in the back of the house, I find myself looking forward to the changes ahead - if anything because it will be different than this right now.
As I wander the house, going from room to room to room, I am reminded of different days by the pictures I'm now packing away. Today, I packed our wedding photos which is only fitting considering today is our 7 year anniversary. Is it time for the 7 year itch? Nah. Chris and I don't have the energy to cheat on each other. Perhaps our 7 year itch has manifested in this move. I think we both need a change especially after the challenging years we've had. Although my relationship with some are being upset by this move, I'm glad to know that Chris and I have only grown closer and we're more committed to each other and our family as we prepare for a new, and hopefully, exciting future.
One wedding, one honeymoon, two houses, and three babies later, we're still on a roll. Happy anniversary, hon.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Saying Bye
Our fate has been decided and we’re moving to Salt Lake City. Although we go about our daily routine of feeding, clothing and playing with our babies, our house is slowly emptying as towers of boxes climb to the ceilings. Trying to maintain order during a time of deconstruction is challenging but we’re doing it in stages in order to allow ourselves and our boys to adjust to the changes.
As I place one of our possessions in a box, I can’t help but remind myself that one day I’ll be pulling that same object out in a new home. I know how I’m feeling now – although I can’t really define it since it’s comprised of many emotions – I wonder what I’ll be feeling then. I can’t help but worry that I’ll be sad and filled with regret but I hope I’ll be optimistic and excited about our new life in SLC.
As we pack up our belongings, we’re also saying our farewells to our loved ones. Last Saturday, we met with some of our closest friends at a local bar. With the breeze of an afternoon shower bathing us in coolness, our hearts were warmed with the love of friendship and our appreciation of our shared histories. The night was ripe with giggles as we let our guards down and just shared the evening together just one more time.
Heavy with sleepiness, good beer and food, we drove home (Chris was designated so he had only had a beer or two hours before) later than we had in a long time. Feeling the vibration of 75 below us, I was soothed by thoughts of our friends. Spending time with our friends was like slipping into our childhood bed and snuggling in a nice, warm blanket. I was at peace despite not knowing when we’d see them again. I know our friendships are enduring and that the critical component is love and connection and I knew we had that.
As I place one of our possessions in a box, I can’t help but remind myself that one day I’ll be pulling that same object out in a new home. I know how I’m feeling now – although I can’t really define it since it’s comprised of many emotions – I wonder what I’ll be feeling then. I can’t help but worry that I’ll be sad and filled with regret but I hope I’ll be optimistic and excited about our new life in SLC.
As we pack up our belongings, we’re also saying our farewells to our loved ones. Last Saturday, we met with some of our closest friends at a local bar. With the breeze of an afternoon shower bathing us in coolness, our hearts were warmed with the love of friendship and our appreciation of our shared histories. The night was ripe with giggles as we let our guards down and just shared the evening together just one more time.
Heavy with sleepiness, good beer and food, we drove home (Chris was designated so he had only had a beer or two hours before) later than we had in a long time. Feeling the vibration of 75 below us, I was soothed by thoughts of our friends. Spending time with our friends was like slipping into our childhood bed and snuggling in a nice, warm blanket. I was at peace despite not knowing when we’d see them again. I know our friendships are enduring and that the critical component is love and connection and I knew we had that.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Bitter and sweet
I’m struck by the word bitter tonight. As I feel the many emotions I’m experiencing about our upcoming move, I think of it as bittersweet. How can one person have such conflicting emotions? On one hand I’m very excited about the many adventures that lie ahead of us, while on the other I’m honestly scared about leaving my home state, my family and friends. I feel like the compass that guides me is calibrated for Texas and that, by moving, I’m not going to know my way – at least not for a while. Meanwhile, I’ll still be the busy mom I am now and have to function. I can’t afford to fall into despair or panic.
During the day, my heart beats excitedly about the many beautiful things I’ll be able to see in Salt Lake City, the fun things I’ll get to do with my husband , children and in-laws, the many opportunities for us to do things we can’t do here. At night, though, my chest tightens with anxiety, my stomach clenches and I worry about how I will ever be able to make SLC my home.
As Webster’s defines it, bittersweet is pleasure alloyed with pain - how succinct and how appropriate for my situation.
Tonight, in addition to my usual concerns, I’m thinking about someone very, very close to me. For the sake of anonymity I won’t identify her. She essentially accused me of pretending to be sad about leaving. Although I have not cried openly, this heart of mine sinks when I think of what, and mainly who, I’m leaving behind. It is not a pleasant feeling but I can’t provide a window into my heart large enough to prove it to her. I know she hurts and I hate that. I think she thinks I’m cold and that I don’t love her enough to stay. Unknowingly her own bitterness pushes me away and influences me to appear cold and unloving – fulfilling her prophecy and hurting us both.
Tonight, the sadness that is always present is burdened even more with feelings of being misunderstood, of feeling disconnected and angry. I’m at a complete loss as to how to rectify the situation since I still grasp at the illusion that I could fix the situation if I tried. Ultimately, despite how much I love her and how much I know she loves me, only she can let go of her bitterness and dare to trust the strength of our relationship and my commitment to it. Until then, I can’t take her pain on as my own because I have enough of my own to handle. I can only we’ll both awaken one morning soon with a sense of peace and untainted sweetness in our hearts.
During the day, my heart beats excitedly about the many beautiful things I’ll be able to see in Salt Lake City, the fun things I’ll get to do with my husband , children and in-laws, the many opportunities for us to do things we can’t do here. At night, though, my chest tightens with anxiety, my stomach clenches and I worry about how I will ever be able to make SLC my home.
As Webster’s defines it, bittersweet is pleasure alloyed with pain - how succinct and how appropriate for my situation.
Tonight, in addition to my usual concerns, I’m thinking about someone very, very close to me. For the sake of anonymity I won’t identify her. She essentially accused me of pretending to be sad about leaving. Although I have not cried openly, this heart of mine sinks when I think of what, and mainly who, I’m leaving behind. It is not a pleasant feeling but I can’t provide a window into my heart large enough to prove it to her. I know she hurts and I hate that. I think she thinks I’m cold and that I don’t love her enough to stay. Unknowingly her own bitterness pushes me away and influences me to appear cold and unloving – fulfilling her prophecy and hurting us both.
Tonight, the sadness that is always present is burdened even more with feelings of being misunderstood, of feeling disconnected and angry. I’m at a complete loss as to how to rectify the situation since I still grasp at the illusion that I could fix the situation if I tried. Ultimately, despite how much I love her and how much I know she loves me, only she can let go of her bitterness and dare to trust the strength of our relationship and my commitment to it. Until then, I can’t take her pain on as my own because I have enough of my own to handle. I can only we’ll both awaken one morning soon with a sense of peace and untainted sweetness in our hearts.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Stretch and contract
We may be moving after all so I have started packing just one day premature. As I was going through one of my bedside tables, I found a notepad that had numbers listed all over it. Example:
1:40
1:45
2:05
2:30
2:45
3:50
and so forth until it stops at 9:15. It took me a second to realize these were my hastily written notes about the contractions I was having while in the hospital the four weeks before the twins were born. There are pages and pages of these, some written legibly and others written slanted and scribbled - indicative of how my energy and comfort level waxed and waned throughout the several weeks worth of bed rest.
After flipping through the pages, I then found something I had written semi-coherently to my boys. It's not art but it does show how I felt the weeks before I had Evan and Dylan. As I was ready for their birth, I was also sad to be away from my oldest, Neil:
My body aches
stretched beyond
my womb clenches
and the baby boys dance
My eyes droop
spent energy throughout
but I see a drawing
you made on my arm
I'm filled with my love for you (this was after a visit from Neil where he drew on me)
The love for the twins
growing in me
love for my husband
who shares all this with me
his unwavering committment to all of us
I'm a long way from those days. My twins are bouncing on the bed and eating graham crackers and my oldest sees me more than he doesn't. My love for my husband is even stronger and our committment to each other and our family has become even more evident as we prepare for our great adventure to Utah.
1:40
1:45
2:05
2:30
2:45
3:50
and so forth until it stops at 9:15. It took me a second to realize these were my hastily written notes about the contractions I was having while in the hospital the four weeks before the twins were born. There are pages and pages of these, some written legibly and others written slanted and scribbled - indicative of how my energy and comfort level waxed and waned throughout the several weeks worth of bed rest.
After flipping through the pages, I then found something I had written semi-coherently to my boys. It's not art but it does show how I felt the weeks before I had Evan and Dylan. As I was ready for their birth, I was also sad to be away from my oldest, Neil:
My body aches
stretched beyond
my womb clenches
and the baby boys dance
My eyes droop
spent energy throughout
but I see a drawing
you made on my arm
I'm filled with my love for you (this was after a visit from Neil where he drew on me)
The love for the twins
growing in me
love for my husband
who shares all this with me
his unwavering committment to all of us
I'm a long way from those days. My twins are bouncing on the bed and eating graham crackers and my oldest sees me more than he doesn't. My love for my husband is even stronger and our committment to each other and our family has become even more evident as we prepare for our great adventure to Utah.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Twisted
I was simply turning to explain some nonsense to the boys when my knee decided to be rather uncooperative. I can't really even explain what happened but I had the sensation that my knee temporarily dislocated, I heard an icky pop, and I was immediately in a lot of pain. From standing to falling in mid-sentence, the boys thought their mommy was being funny. As I tuned out the world and felt the pain, I tried to figure out what had just happened and tried to figure out how I was supposed to take care of my boys when I didn't think I could even walk. As they all swooped in like puppies on a person who has laid down on the ground for wrestling time, I tried to fend off my babies in order to protect my now throbbing knee. As I got my senses back somewhat, I pulled myself across the kitchen floor and made a one-legged attempt at standing and reaching the phone.
Meanwhile, my husband saw our home number pop up on his work phone caller ID and he prepared himself for either a stressed-out wife or a casual conversation about one of his son's most recent antics. Instead he heard a wife in pain asking him to come home now. He left but it was going to take him an hour and a half to get home since he bikes and takes the train. (In Dallas, an hour commute is common so an hour and a half isn't that big of a deal.)
I couldn't figure out how I was going to take care of the boys for an hour and a half so I called my mother. Answering the phone she heard her normally cheerful daughter beg her to come over to help. She would be here in 20 minutes.
Twenty minutes isn't that long unless you have 3 boys 3.5 and under. I managed to make my way to the couch nearest the front door and laid down. All 3 boys joined me and I explained that mommy hurt her leg but that Mammaw was coming over. I asked them to be very good for me and, with the exception of one brief toy-stealing battle across my lap, they were. My leg screamed with pain and I tried not to stress out about what the heck I had done to my knee (and ultimately what the hell were we going to do if I did hurt myself badly). Gaining a little more confidence with the situation, I began to slowly bend and straighten my leg to see if I could do it. Completely absorbed in the task of cautious movement, I was initially unaware of Dylan, the one child now remaining beside me (Evan and Neil were busy doing something else). As I bent and straightened my knee, I happened to look at Dylan at the foot of the couch: My little almost-20 month old baby was laid back on the couch bending and straightening his leg too.
My distressed and anxious heart warmed and I laughed. Looking at me, he laughed then bent and straightened his leg again and again, each time followed by a giggle. My little precious babe was so cute as he did this and I relaxed and decided that we would be fine no matter what I did to my knee. He gave me what I really needed: not just an ice pack, pain meds and an x-ray but a pure, sweet and simple laugh.
A few minutes later my Mom showed up and corralled the babes, gave me the ice pack and the pain meds that I did actually need. I decided rushing off to the ER wasn't necessary and that I likely just sprained the tar out of my knee. An hour and a half after my call, my sweaty husband (from riding in the hot weather) rushed through the door to see how I was doing and to take on the nightly baby duties. Shortly after that, my Dad came to bring crutches. We then drank beer, ate nachos and put the babies down for the night.
Today, I awoke with a really sore and stiff knee but I think it's improving - either that or it's the pain meds I'm on. Either way, we'll be ok even if my knee isn't completely great. At least I can walk somewhat, I can definitely laugh and I have precious babes who can help me do so.
Meanwhile, my husband saw our home number pop up on his work phone caller ID and he prepared himself for either a stressed-out wife or a casual conversation about one of his son's most recent antics. Instead he heard a wife in pain asking him to come home now. He left but it was going to take him an hour and a half to get home since he bikes and takes the train. (In Dallas, an hour commute is common so an hour and a half isn't that big of a deal.)
I couldn't figure out how I was going to take care of the boys for an hour and a half so I called my mother. Answering the phone she heard her normally cheerful daughter beg her to come over to help. She would be here in 20 minutes.
Twenty minutes isn't that long unless you have 3 boys 3.5 and under. I managed to make my way to the couch nearest the front door and laid down. All 3 boys joined me and I explained that mommy hurt her leg but that Mammaw was coming over. I asked them to be very good for me and, with the exception of one brief toy-stealing battle across my lap, they were. My leg screamed with pain and I tried not to stress out about what the heck I had done to my knee (and ultimately what the hell were we going to do if I did hurt myself badly). Gaining a little more confidence with the situation, I began to slowly bend and straighten my leg to see if I could do it. Completely absorbed in the task of cautious movement, I was initially unaware of Dylan, the one child now remaining beside me (Evan and Neil were busy doing something else). As I bent and straightened my knee, I happened to look at Dylan at the foot of the couch: My little almost-20 month old baby was laid back on the couch bending and straightening his leg too.
My distressed and anxious heart warmed and I laughed. Looking at me, he laughed then bent and straightened his leg again and again, each time followed by a giggle. My little precious babe was so cute as he did this and I relaxed and decided that we would be fine no matter what I did to my knee. He gave me what I really needed: not just an ice pack, pain meds and an x-ray but a pure, sweet and simple laugh.
A few minutes later my Mom showed up and corralled the babes, gave me the ice pack and the pain meds that I did actually need. I decided rushing off to the ER wasn't necessary and that I likely just sprained the tar out of my knee. An hour and a half after my call, my sweaty husband (from riding in the hot weather) rushed through the door to see how I was doing and to take on the nightly baby duties. Shortly after that, my Dad came to bring crutches. We then drank beer, ate nachos and put the babies down for the night.
Today, I awoke with a really sore and stiff knee but I think it's improving - either that or it's the pain meds I'm on. Either way, we'll be ok even if my knee isn't completely great. At least I can walk somewhat, I can definitely laugh and I have precious babes who can help me do so.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Endangered self
As the idea of our moving seems more probable, I find a stillness in me, a calm sense of waiting for my future to present itself. As we discuss our potential move with others, their emotions whip around me. I'm affected by it, obviously, but if I stay centered I don't get sucked into it. I guess you could say I'm in the eye of the storm and I'm trying to stay there.
From my sweet friends who express their sadness of our departure while stating their unconditional support (thank you, guys!) to my 88 year old aunt diplomatically supporting me while making it clear she won't be living much longer. Although she wants me to be happy, I don't think she thinks I'll be happy if we move. I guess that's what I have to find out for myself.
My parents recently told me that, according to an author whose name escapes me at the moment, Chris and I are from the "me" and "endangered" generations. The fact that I'm choosing to move with my husband and children to a place my family isn't thrilled about could be seen as a "me" sort of thing to do. The fact that we're concerned about the future of the economy and our country's livelihood with the oil crisis (whether people want to face that fact or not) could be seen as our feeling "endangered". I suppose we could be just living our lives predictably, following a course through our age and state of mind but it doesn't feel like we're intentionally following a set lifestyle. We live in this age as every human has - in our time. We're influenced by the world around us and we interpret it thus, whether we believe the earth is flat or being assaulted by humankind.
The only thing I know how to do is to live my life, stay informed via as reputable sources as a person is capable of finding, and make choices that feel right to me. Trust in news sources, in opinions about critical life changes and the ones we love is a tricky thing but, ultimately, you have to take a leap of faith if you want to live a full life. Risk avoidance is just as risky as careless risk taking. In my opinion, making critical life choices involves dissolving irrational fears, calmly evaluating the choices and following your gut instinct. As much as the feelings of others is important to a point, no one can live your life for you and you can't live your life for others to the exclusion of your life's passions, interests and loves.
As I drink a glass of wine, I am rocking away in our glider trying to find that center of the storm. As I feel for those who are sad about our leaving, particularly my family, I am truly sorry for the loss that they may feel. Meanwhile, I retreat into myself and enjoy the idea of what our future may hold and am hopeful that the transition will prove to be less traumatic for everyone.
From my sweet friends who express their sadness of our departure while stating their unconditional support (thank you, guys!) to my 88 year old aunt diplomatically supporting me while making it clear she won't be living much longer. Although she wants me to be happy, I don't think she thinks I'll be happy if we move. I guess that's what I have to find out for myself.
My parents recently told me that, according to an author whose name escapes me at the moment, Chris and I are from the "me" and "endangered" generations. The fact that I'm choosing to move with my husband and children to a place my family isn't thrilled about could be seen as a "me" sort of thing to do. The fact that we're concerned about the future of the economy and our country's livelihood with the oil crisis (whether people want to face that fact or not) could be seen as our feeling "endangered". I suppose we could be just living our lives predictably, following a course through our age and state of mind but it doesn't feel like we're intentionally following a set lifestyle. We live in this age as every human has - in our time. We're influenced by the world around us and we interpret it thus, whether we believe the earth is flat or being assaulted by humankind.
The only thing I know how to do is to live my life, stay informed via as reputable sources as a person is capable of finding, and make choices that feel right to me. Trust in news sources, in opinions about critical life changes and the ones we love is a tricky thing but, ultimately, you have to take a leap of faith if you want to live a full life. Risk avoidance is just as risky as careless risk taking. In my opinion, making critical life choices involves dissolving irrational fears, calmly evaluating the choices and following your gut instinct. As much as the feelings of others is important to a point, no one can live your life for you and you can't live your life for others to the exclusion of your life's passions, interests and loves.
As I drink a glass of wine, I am rocking away in our glider trying to find that center of the storm. As I feel for those who are sad about our leaving, particularly my family, I am truly sorry for the loss that they may feel. Meanwhile, I retreat into myself and enjoy the idea of what our future may hold and am hopeful that the transition will prove to be less traumatic for everyone.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Adrift
At times, I find myself feeling groundless and separated, floating in a psychological eddy, not sure where I will settle. Sometimes I don't mind the state of mind but other times, like now, I find it stressful and annoying. When I fight it, I think I only prolong it, like a dog circling his tail endlessly. Feeling that, since this is occurring in me, I then must fix it so I focus inward, nagging myself to death as I try to find my footing. As many times as I have done this, I almost always find relief only when I reach out to another: my husband, my parents or friends. Tonight, although I didn't realize I was doing it consciously, I found myself grounded after spending a very pleasant evening with a friend.
Having shared our youth together, then separated and then reconnected, I am comforted by our similarities, amused by our memories, and proud of what we both have managed to overcome at those difficult times in our lives. As grown women with full lives as wives, mothers, daughters, our young souls have evolved deeply and richly. Hours before, I was exhausted and anxious by my hectic life, but having spent an enjoyable few hours with her talking, I feel refreshed, energized and grateful that we are yet again in one another's company.
As my eyes droop and my body insists on sleep, I am content to settle into this restful state. Thank you.
Having shared our youth together, then separated and then reconnected, I am comforted by our similarities, amused by our memories, and proud of what we both have managed to overcome at those difficult times in our lives. As grown women with full lives as wives, mothers, daughters, our young souls have evolved deeply and richly. Hours before, I was exhausted and anxious by my hectic life, but having spent an enjoyable few hours with her talking, I feel refreshed, energized and grateful that we are yet again in one another's company.
As my eyes droop and my body insists on sleep, I am content to settle into this restful state. Thank you.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Dried and frozen
As Thomas the Train plays in the play room, I feel the need to toot my own horn. You see, I'm new to the homemaker business and, with a long history of feminist leanings (if not totally tipped over), I have rebelled against domesticity like most men. In the last few weeks, I have discovered that I actually quite enjoy it and am eager to learn how to be a better master of my trade. (What else am I going to do since I don't have time to pursue a paying career at this point, plus, this is such a critical time in our boys' lives that I want to do my best for the boys.)
From canning, dehydrating food and making homemade (and yummy) popsicles, I am thoroughly enjoying finding ways to preserve food so it lasts longer, making healthy and tasty treats for the boys, and learning new ways to make home fun, comforting and a pleasure for all of us. (Of course, I say this as one of my boys is whining but you understand what I'm saying.)
Although I canned the salsa weeks ago, we don't get to try it until this weekend (it required sitting a spell for the flavor to reach its peak). As for drying foods, my favorites so far are mangos, watermelon, peaches and bananas. Since we're beginning to purchase more locally grown foods, though, we'll have to eventually give up mangos and bananas. Today, my dehydrator is plugging away on honeydew. So far, it promises to be good as well. Interestingly, dehydrating foods makes the flavor of the food become more concentrated and the final product is an easily transportable and healthy snacks for the boys.
As for the popsicles, I have tried two recipes so far from Mormon Chic. (I figure since we're considering moving to SLC, I might as well see what these ladies know.) I have made the "Dripless Popsicle" which is tasty but, as Chris points out, is full of chemicals. The other one I made is watermelon popsicles. They are definitely healthier and all the boys seem to like it.
I feel that my slow transformation to domestic chic is timely because I think it's going to become increasingly necessary to preserve our food and waste less as oil prices continue to rise and our current food transporation system becomes challenged by it. (I highly suggest reading Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver which addresses issues related to peak oil and food security.) Buying locally grown foods and learning how to preserve food before circumstances actually require us to do that might make the transition a little less stressful if we are already confident in our abilities to take care of ourselves and our families.
Although I'm doing this as a way to expand my skills, ultimately I'm doing this because I feel that soon it may be necessary and I want to be ready for it. If things end up being fine and my concerns are unwarranted then the worst thing that happens is that we save money, waste less and our family eats a healthier diet than that found in processed, packaged goods made by people who don't know my children. If they don't, I'm hoping that what I'm learning will help us make the most of what's available so that we may have full bellies in the years to come.
From canning, dehydrating food and making homemade (and yummy) popsicles, I am thoroughly enjoying finding ways to preserve food so it lasts longer, making healthy and tasty treats for the boys, and learning new ways to make home fun, comforting and a pleasure for all of us. (Of course, I say this as one of my boys is whining but you understand what I'm saying.)
Although I canned the salsa weeks ago, we don't get to try it until this weekend (it required sitting a spell for the flavor to reach its peak). As for drying foods, my favorites so far are mangos, watermelon, peaches and bananas. Since we're beginning to purchase more locally grown foods, though, we'll have to eventually give up mangos and bananas. Today, my dehydrator is plugging away on honeydew. So far, it promises to be good as well. Interestingly, dehydrating foods makes the flavor of the food become more concentrated and the final product is an easily transportable and healthy snacks for the boys.
As for the popsicles, I have tried two recipes so far from Mormon Chic. (I figure since we're considering moving to SLC, I might as well see what these ladies know.) I have made the "Dripless Popsicle" which is tasty but, as Chris points out, is full of chemicals. The other one I made is watermelon popsicles. They are definitely healthier and all the boys seem to like it.
I feel that my slow transformation to domestic chic is timely because I think it's going to become increasingly necessary to preserve our food and waste less as oil prices continue to rise and our current food transporation system becomes challenged by it. (I highly suggest reading Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver which addresses issues related to peak oil and food security.) Buying locally grown foods and learning how to preserve food before circumstances actually require us to do that might make the transition a little less stressful if we are already confident in our abilities to take care of ourselves and our families.
Although I'm doing this as a way to expand my skills, ultimately I'm doing this because I feel that soon it may be necessary and I want to be ready for it. If things end up being fine and my concerns are unwarranted then the worst thing that happens is that we save money, waste less and our family eats a healthier diet than that found in processed, packaged goods made by people who don't know my children. If they don't, I'm hoping that what I'm learning will help us make the most of what's available so that we may have full bellies in the years to come.
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